Hues of gold hug the horizon,
The air is heavy with the scent of a rainy day,
A pride of lions moves its limbs with a motion of might,
A motion of magic precedes the pack.

A dragonfly bounces along the river of relief,
The sun sets its final shimmer of sophistication
Behind the silhouette of a striking baobab.

A pocket of air holds the wings of the stork in a mathematical manner,
as it sweeps over of the plateau of promise.

South Africa,
A nation in progress,
Where each combination of skin tones each have a story to tell of its own,
a story of history,
a story of might.

Long live the pride of lions,
the Giants of our Rainbow Nation who sow seeds of sunshine in every corner of the soil.
Nkosi Sikelel' iAfrika.

It’s 2018 August 12th

Night is falling,
the photographs in my hands radiant with the light of the past
where hills touch the sky,
not my parents‘ earth, only the ground they built on.
Their voices tender with longing for the motherland,
while there is merely my own
heart I see in the vast desert,
homeless, homesick,
waiting for moss to grow over that earth too.
Finally silence
where once was the noise of the nation,
we are children again,
alone in the motion of the Prague-Berlin train.

070518

I heard the Thunder's wrath
But I was so assured that I can breathe
In His awakening breath called "life,"
While the waves urge to lie,
To distort or tear down one's walls
Dark turns darker,
In his flesh, he alone calls.

There're colors over the street
And they seemed embarrassed when the Lighting came
His eyes are on fire, some have never adorned
Their strength, by their might
A cloth and shelter of their own.

Those colors depict hope, One's full revelation
Scattered unto nations but some denied, left behind
And by their feet, they've trampled it down
And have let no fear in Him
Dwell unto their hearts; instead, boast on their crowns.

So again, those colors unfold a promise --
A promise of reliance when we're about to be drowned in the sea,
A crowning glory full of assurance and confidence
That we shall arise as One Nation
And the waiting will be over.

When before, we started to call
He has left no one hanging on a tree
While such faces were getting too close
And it's too much.


Too much to bear that the freedom they boast
Is no longer in Truth,
And they laugh while drinking
Into their own blood
Sealed with their own names
That they rather put colors
In variance and forget that it's a loss of purpose.

Words were floating upon them
But they yearn for pride
For their very own indulgent
Turned out to be their way and it has become "final" to them
That they're ever free to choose and do.

Why is it when we speak the Truth
People scatter and grumble
As their faith, distort
In the loss of confusion.


If grace then was a lottery
Then there'll be no salvation
But indeed it was free,
So why don't one grab it
And embrace redemption.

Yes, we can love but be still in His grace
Coz hope isn't to perish for the ones who call for it
Never dethroning the One who first spoke
So please, do things not because of wants and for earning.

I would love it when the Sun comes down now
But grace is the period and we call it "now"
So friends whom we love
Do seek righteousness and grip on it in tight
Coz when the latter day comes,
One will perish while one is left behind.

If we seek the Truth
Truly, let the heart endures
Let revival take the sword and fight for its cause.
No more crying for the ones you wished there were more
So now, never lack
Even a moment to recall.